Cuddles
by seven days later
Summary: Well, the latest law suit is in and Cuddy is not pleased. House decides to throw off the blame by being philosophical, but that doesn't work either. What will it take to get the she-devil off his case? oneshot; Huddy.


Talking of Opportunities...

House is an immoral ass. House is an immoral, ignorant ass. House is an immoral, ignorant, pompous, self-obsessed, sexually frustrated, out of order, infuriatingly and maniacally obsessive ass. But he does have impeccable aim, I decided, as one of the rubber bands he was playing with landed directly in my cleavage. I suppose it was really my own fault for taking my jacket off in the same room as him. I paused in my reading of his law suit file.

"House, stop being impertinent." House adopted a puppy-dog look on his face, which made him very cute, but I narrowed my eyes anyway, knowing fine well that below the fluffy exterior was a heart of pure simmering evil. "Why can't you just sit still!"

"I don't know how. Call it a character flaw."

"I'll add it to the list. How did you manage to sexually assault Michael Barnes anyway? He's male!" House screwed up his face.

"Come to think about it you can add that to the list too." He pinged another band at me, this time hitting my ear, which quite hurt. I mouthed 'Ow!' and glared at him. "You know I should be the one filing for sexual harassment, right? Cameron insisted on staying in the room while I was showering the other day." I rolled my eyes, yet felt a small pang of jealously when Cameron's name was mentioned. She was with Chase nowadays, but deep down I wondered if she could ever really get over House. If she wanted to get _under_ House, I'm sure he would not object, and that was why I was jealous. Not that I would ever let him know that.

"Yes, I get it. She wants to screw you." The sarcasm in my voice was evident, yet I noticed House chose to ignore it. "She was making sure you didn't overdose on vicodin." Well she was making sure that he didn't die from an overdose in the shower. "You made it awkward by needing to shower." He looked at me as if I as being unfair.

"Every man has his needs. Personally I don't like to be covered in vomit."

"You shouldn't have taken so many vicodin then." He leant forward, and looked me straight in the eye.

"I was in pain-"

"You're always in pain. Go see someone, get into a program. You're an addict." We both knew the pain in his leg was not what he was trying to block out. Kutner's suicide had killed the best of our spirits, and brought House back down to solid ground. In the days following to his employee's death, House had not been the same - he was changed, even if he did not want to admit it. The death had affected him not because of what Wilson thought - it was not because he was losing the insight into other people - and it had not affected him in the way that normal people do - because he was gone and House would miss him, but Kutner's suicide hit him so hard because House did not know his own favourite - I could so tell - employee well enough to be aware of his pain.

It had shocked me deeply. I had not liked Kutner at first, I thought him a liability to my hospital. But slowly, gradually, across many weird and wonderful diagnoses and several altogether quite amusing mistakes and lawsuits, I had learnt to rather like the eccentric Doctor, and not just because he gave me results. He was a part of my family and I loved him like he was a nephew, or one of those weird cousins that you would never admit to liking, but would laugh with secretly behind closed doors.

"I know I'm pretty, but there's no need to stare." I realised that the whole time I had been thinking about Kutner, I had been staring into space - House's space. I pulled myself up to retort.

"Oh I'm sorry, I can't hear you. I think your ego is blocking out the sound waves." House merely raised an eyebrow in response, and lifted his leg up onto the table. Wincing slightly, he popped two pills, which I purposefully - with skills developed over years of working with him - ignored. I had noticed his pain worsen considerably over the last few weeks, due to his emotional stress. (Not that House has emotions; it's more likely to be gas.) Despite his pain I couldn't help but show my disapproval of his extensive use of narcotics. He averted his eyes to his patellae region. I returned to my paperwork, and we sat in silence for another while.

"Cuddles?"

"Hmm?" I cannot believe I just responded to that. I slowly raised my head from my files to see House's face brimming with childish glee.

"Cuddles? Really? You like that?" I tensed and replied defensively.

"No." Kinda.

"Well then Cuddles. I need your satanic charm."

"I dread to think of what that means." He smiled a little House-smirk smile at me, and flicked another band.

"It's a covert operation run by the FBI. They just called me and you need to get out the twins, for distractional purposes."

"That's funny, because your phone did not go off." He looked at me as if I was insane.

"Well they contacted me telepathically." He scoffed, as if this much was obvious. I kept my cool, having spent years perfecting my lewd comment parry.

"Sorry, today's not too convenient. I'm saving them for a private viewing tonight." I returned to my paperwork, barely able to contain a smile. I saw the smirk on House's face fade a little, out of the corner of my eye. I felt a burst of pride when I recognised the look on his face as jealousy. He thought I had a date. I decided to put him out of his misery. "I am saving myself for a private viewing tonight. Cameron, Thirteen and I are having a sleep-over. You know, the type where we throw pillows at each other naked and make out." House's eyes lit up and I am pleased to say I think it turned him on.

"Can I come?" So many jokes, so little time.

"No can do," I smiled at him flirtatiously. "Girls only." A lopsided smile took over House's face.

"But they're my favourite!" I rolled my eyes, and a genuine smile slipped through my defences. I was just dressing up House's statement to make it sound even remotely humane, when I noticed a pair of shocking blue eyes, staring me in the face. I decided to ignore him, and made my face as unreadable as possible. Maybe he takes that as a reading? Who really knows with House?

"I know I'm pretty but there's no need to stare." I mocked him, and, contrary to my expectations, I felt the intensity of his glare increase dramatically.

"You look more like your mother than your sister." This caught my by surprise. Could he really read me like that? Just like he might read a book, or - since it's House - a pervy magazine? What do you know, House does know me further than my boobs and my bum. "And I saw your family picture when I was rifling through your drawers." Mysterious situations always have the simplest answers. All that was missing now was a lewd comment concerning one, or in common event, two of my body parts... "The desk ones, not the metaphorical ones." And there you go. House's most predictable comment of the day award.

"How are you...Why are you..." I fought for words. "Why are you... the way you are. What could ever happen, and don't say it's the pain, because I know it's not the pain." House made what could uniquely be described as the House face.

"My mommy used to touch my no-no place." He stuck out his bottom lip. "I'm vulnerable, mother me..." he frowned. "No, wait a moment, that's Cameron." He shrugged at me. "Sorry, wrong chide."

"No, really. Your past is nothing special - it happens to people all the time. Your pain could not possibly be physical - you take care of that with the multitudes of vicodin you so happily chew, so pray do tell, what made you such an ass?" he was silent for a moment, thinking this over.

"Do you want the real version, or the dramatic monologue I learnt from Wilson?" I gave him a deadpan look.

"The real version, please." He sighed, and pulled out what looked suspiciously like a hip flask. I was going to apprehend him when I caught a whiff of cranberries. House was particularly partial to cranberries. Personally I don't blame him. House hit his cane off my carefully constructed, ornate mahogany desk, making small dents.

"I would tell you but I wouldn't want to bore you with the details." I stared at him, straight in the eyes, the only place I could tell what he was thinking, and not vice versa. "And you don't want to hear it. You just want a simple, self-explanatory excuse that would put my life into perspective for you, but we both know that life just doesn't work like that. People lie, then they lie about lying, and then if they're really good, they can deceive you into thinking they're telling the truth." House grimaced, and shook his head. "Then people fall in love and their love is broken, and it reforms, but it's never the same as before." I was fairly surprised at his words. I though he was over Stacey, but that just shows how much he keeps bottled up inside of him. "Then material possessions fail you, and that's all you ever had, and you are sad for the loss but your sadness runs deeper because you know that what you feel as loss is not loss at all, it is collateral damage." He limped up and over to the window, which showed the autumn colours beautifully. I loved this office in fall. He bit his lip, and played absently with his last remaining rubber band.

"So there's love. That makes you sad. Then there is money, which even you find unfulfilling." House nodded.

"And then the unpredictability of life itself. You trip and fall once; chances are you get up again. But if you fall twice, or thrice, or four times, you're just a drunk who ends up passed out by the side of the road - watching the cars go by, but never sober enough to do anything about it." For once, I understood House's bizarre form of communication. He stared at the ground little longer, and then looked back up at me, almost glaring. "That's why I'm such an ass. I find the perfect opportunities, but then in a moment of weakness I throw them away for a guilty swig out of a juice bottle." His juice bottles really got me thinking.

"You don't have to be an ass, though." House shook his head.

"You don't understand. I am an ass because there is nothing else that I can amount to. Nothing that's worth... _anything_." I stood and walked so I was beside him. Not saying anything, just standing there, as a pillar of coma fort, ready as hell for some metaphorical leaning.

"No. You're wrong." I said, with a sudden flash of clarity. House looked down at me, and it was evident in his eyes that he was interested in what I had to say. "You're and ass because haven't found the perfect opportunity yet." He looked me deep in the eyes, and neither of us spoke, yet we shared a thought, I know we did. We were both wondering what the perfect opportunity was, and neither of us wanted to say it, but we both knew it was passing by.

"The moment is passing." House said, and urgently added, "We need to do something to make it come back. I glanced around the office, and a quick look out the window, and by the time I looked back onto his face, his lips were upon mine. I felt my heart speed up I my chest and I felt like laughing inside, like a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

We finally broke apart, gasping for air. I could tell that all the staff at reception were staring, open-mouthed at what will soon be the juiciest bit of gossip that they might get for a very long time. House suddenly made a face at me.

"Just because I seized that opportunity doesn't not make me an ass." I laughed.

"Missing opportunities don't make you an ass either." I smiled sweetly at the baffled look on House's face.

"Then why did you tell me that it did?" My smile widened.

"Because then you would kiss me." He narrowed his eyes at me slightly.

"You tricked me! You really are the She-Devil!" I just smiled.


End file.
